


Living and the Dead

by rasseda



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Futurefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rasseda/pseuds/rasseda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They’re together in their shared apartment, tangled up on their toppled pull-out. There’s a balcony garden in the back and brand new yellow paint on the bedroom walls. Last week Kate threw a whole carton of eggs at Max’s head during a fight about the missing Christmas decorations, and then they made it up again. They are in love."  [Max/Kate, futurefic.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living and the Dead

She wakes in the night in the middle of their small New York brownstone, the two of them crammed closely together on the lumpy pull-out sofa that Chloe broke when she visited last spring. They’ve finally gotten around to repainting the bedroom after months of pinning endless color wheels and pastel gradients to the walls and arguing about cool tones versus warm ones, dark hues and light hues, and so tonight they’ve relocated to the living room with the cat and the fan. 

For one frantic moment, she isn’t sure which had been the dream. Hadn’t she lived years in grief? 

Kate has fallen asleep with her book again, and Max kicks it into the floor when she twists breathlessly in the blankets and gropes blindly for the other woman. She half expects that Kate won’t be there. Her dread is claustrophobic and suffocating, like being interred in some dark, small space. 

The lump under the covers rolls over to touch her in the dark.

“Max?” 

It hadn’t happened. It was a nightmare. 

They’re together in their shared apartment, tangled up on their toppled pull-out. There’s a balcony garden in the back and brand new yellow paint on the bedroom walls. Last week Kate threw a whole carton of eggs at Max’s head during a fight about the missing Christmas decorations, and then they made it up again. They are in love. 

It hadn’t happened. The last four years hadn’t passed in despair. 

“Kate, Kate,” Max chokes. She’s blubbering incoherently, fat tears falling down her chin. The sensation of relief is physical. She’s dizzy with it. “Oh, thank God, Kate.“ 

Kate feels around the pillow for Max’s face and hits her in the nose. 

“There you are. Sorry.” Her voice is slurry from sleep. It must be close to 4 AM. Neither of them have to be up until half past 7. Max clutches her hand to her chest. “Darling, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” 

“You died again. I dreamed that I couldn’t save you.” She sobs. “Please hug me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Kate sidles closer and the boxspring creaks. “It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m alive. You were there, Max. Everything is fine.” 

“I wasn’t at first. I came around the corner and I saw you jump. I heard you hit the pavement. Oh, God, Kate–“ Max wipes at her face with her free hand. “You were dead. You died.” Her eyes have adjusted to the dark and she sees Kate squinting at her sleepily. 

“It was a dream, Max. I’m right here. We painted the bedroom.” 

Max giggles through her tears. Kate is barely coherent. “We did paint the bedroom,” she agrees. “You spilled paint on the cat.” 

“That was you,” comes the drowsy reply. 

“It was me.” Max leans across the bedding and kisses her deeply. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“S’okay.” Kate yawns and rolls onto her side. Max settles into the space beside her and holds her close. “Are you okay to go back to sleep?” 

“I think so.”

Kate’s hand threads soothingly through her hair. “Okay,” she mumbles, already dozing off. She busses Max’s mouth and misses by an inch or three. “Love you.” 

“I love you too.”

Somewhere across the room, the cat purrs in its sleep. Down the hall, tiny yellow pawprints pattern the hardwood like gold leaf inlay. The frames of Max’s photos lining the living room walls are barely discernable in the dim morning light. Kate’s book is still crumpled in the floor, ignored. 

Tomorrow they’ll move back into the bedroom, into their cozy double, and Max will sleep better. She’ll make a trip to the café down the street later in the morning and buy Kate breakfast as an apology. She’ll tell her she loves her again. 

She closes her eyes, surrounded by the contents of their warm, shared life, and sleeps.


End file.
